Freefalling
by FaximumEverdeen
Summary: Max Ride was 14, going to a normal high school and living on the bad side of town, without any friends. From an onlooker's perspective, she had nothing going for her. But there was something kindling underneath that nobody ever saw. Three years on, she's a singing sensation, the girl of your boyfriend's dreams… and about to revisit her childhood. It's going to be a hell of a Ride.
1. Cupid's Bow

**Summary: Maximum Ride was 14, going to a regular high school in a bad town, with no friends. From an onlooker's perspective, she had nothing going for her. But there was something kindling underneath that nobody ever saw. Three years on, she's a singing sensation, the girl of your boyfriend's dreams… and about to revisit her childhood.**

**A/N: Hello, peeples! That summary wasn't my best, but I see it drew you in any way! So basically, the plot of the story is that Max was a high school student, living in my story town, Greyhound (it's in Florida for this story, because that's the only state I've ever been to. :o) Nobody ever liked her in school, because she was just too out of it all. Then one day, her half-sister Ella recorded her singing in her bedroom and got in touch with a big-time producer – without Max's permission. The producers had a few other hopefuls and decided they would be a big hit if they formed a band, and thus, The Freefall was discovered. Three years on, Max is seventeen and the band is the biggest musical phenomenon there ever was. Unfortunately for the residents of Greyhound, nobody remembers the girl in the corner with a guitar on her lap. But the girl remembers them.**

**Most of their songs will actually be by Paramore, because it's my inspiration for this, and I can actually picture Max singing with Hayley's voice. So, I take no credit for any of them, and I'll post a YouTube link to any songs I use in the chapters in the starter A/N so you can hear what it sounds like.  
Before I continue, I'll say something that I've forgotten to mention before: I don't live in America, but the Flock does, so I do try to use American phrases. If I get something wrong, please tell me the right way to say it.**

**I really hope you like this first chapter, because I usually only spend about 6+ hours on a chapter, and this took me a few days to perfect. I also went over to proof-read and edit it to perfection, because I just felt like it wasn't good enough. The first version was so frantic and crappy that I scrapped the whole thing and rewrote, which I don't usually do, because it seems like a shame. But I just didn't like it. So, when I say enjoy this, I MEAN IT! D:**

**Disclaimer: I don't own MR, any songs or anything linked to any references you find in this. This is the only disclaimer for the entire story, so if you forget and think I own rights to Gazzy's fart-in-a-jar, please refer back! All the arenas/stadiums/clubs are made up.**

**Freefalling**

**Chapter One – Brick By Boring Brick**

**Fang's POV Monday**

I sit with Iggy on the basketball court, his nose still buried in that magazine of his, Locker 57. I'm not dissing it – even I have to admit, it's the most popular unisex teen magazine in Florida. It's not just a magazine; it also has a radio station and a talk show. But Iggy definitely has a problem with it, because wherever we go, he's always snuffling in it. One thing you should learn now about my friends is that they're completely obsessed with celebrities. Yes, _especially _the boys.

"So, what's going on with that, Ig?" I ask him, deciding to find out what he's engrossed in this time.

He doesn't look up at me when he replies. "They've been doing regular specials on The Freefall lately. I think they're hinting something. But… what?" he mutters, angrily. It's just like Iggy to get suspicious about something that doesn't matter. "I'm going to need some backup. Sergeant Fang, call in my snap team of military code-cracking specialists." I can see even behind the pages that his ginger brows are furrowed with concentration. Sighing, I flip out my cell and text the boys to come over.

The basketball court is our regular hangout. Since the school got a new and improved one built, nobody comes over here anymore. It's peaceful and quiet, which means we don't get any funny looks when Iggy busts out his moves or Gazzy busts out a… yeah.

Soon enough, I hear a wildebeest stampede and turn around to see a pentagon of prancing pillocks heading our way. Well, a triangle +2 because they seem to have brought the girls with them too.

"Fangarang! Iggle-Piggle!" Ella cries as she sits down next to me and slings her arm around my shoulder. She loves to peeve me off; it's her favourite pastime, and before you get any ideas about the arm around the shoulder, she's not my girlfriend. It's just another of her tactics.

Iggy's cheeks turn a pale shade of pink. "Heya, Ellie-Belly." Ella giggles, and he smiles triumphantly. If anything, they're in an _Eggy _situation, ha-ha. They're both completely oblivious to it, but they'd be really good together. It's just another little thing we share behind their backs. He then sits up, deciding to take his face out of his magazine for once, and takes charge. "Right, do you all know why I have called this family meeting today?"

His gaze is met by five confused expressions and my arrogantly lop-sided smirk.

"I know that you are all very well acquainted with my favourite band, The Freefall?" Varied nods, and a surprisingly quiet Ella. "Well, I'm in need of some serious assistance. This, Locker 57," he turns it around to display the cover, "is the tenth issue that's had a reference. I'm beginning to get suspicious, because it's just like them to put some big news into a code for the fans to figure out. So, my friends, I have decided that we are going to single-handedly crack this thing. Who's with me?"

The guys all cheered. "So, d'you think the number ten has anything to do with it, then?" Dylan frowned.

"Good thinking, Dyl. _I _say we all split up and look for clues." Said Fred – I mean, Sam. "We've got forty more minutes of lunch, so I suggest we go our separate ways for twenty and then pow-wow back here to report our findings." I was hoping to just sit here all lunch. And I would've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for these meddling kids and their stupid dog! "Fang, teams?" Oh, fabtaculous! *please imagine this in a hillbilly cheerleader's voice*

"Uh, right. Shaggy and Scooby, you go to the library." Iggy and the Gasman are off in a flash. "Daphne and Velma, you go to the ICT block." JJ grabs Ella's hand and runs off, almost as excited as Ig was. "Fred and Scrappy, you're on radio duty." Sam and Dylan get themselves settled, pulling out their cells. "I'll study that copy of Locker 57 that Ig left behind." Plonking it on my lap, I flip to the contents and search for the page with the special on it. Page 56 - 57, the last pages. I flick through, glimpsing all the different sections, until I reach the page. Sure enough, a double page has been taken up, with a picture of their lead singer, Maximum Ride, at a concert. She had her fist up, pumping the crowd, and the microphone up to her mouth. I have to admit, she's actually really pretty in the pictures.

Her dirty blonde hair was flying off to the side, and her naturally large, attractively feline hazel eyes were framed by tanned skin that resembled Ella's, arching eyebrows, and long, black eyelashes (which would've been thicker if she'd used mascara, but I doubt it). She had a narrow nose above full, rose-pink Cupid's bow lips and a straight, jutting but soft jawline. I hate to be this primitive, but that girl had _curves, _and most guys are attracted to long, tanned, smooth legs like that. I can't say I'm any different.

Taking out a notepad, I start to scrawl useful points that might be clues.

Ten Locker 57 specials.

Last concert in Seattle.

Currently staying in Portland.

I didn't get any more down, because my phone buzzed. Checking it, I saw that Iggy had forwarded a text around the group.

**IGGY  
**HOLD WHAT UR DOING! I FOUND SOMETHIN BETTER THAN UR MOM. RENDY AT THE COURT, STAT!

About five minutes later, each team had arrived at the court; Iggy and Gazzy last of all. Iggy was frantically waving a stack of magazines and printed sheets at us, his eyes wild, and Gazzy was practically skipping with excitement.

"WEEEE found the code! WEEEEEEEEEE found it!" he yelled, ironically looking like he really was going to wee himself. Dropping down beside us, they suddenly became silent.

"Well? Spit the dirt, man," Dylan pried, prodding the ribcage of Iggy, who took a deep breath, looking like he was about to explode – which he did, and the whole world died the end. Okay, no he didn't.

"RIGHT." He spread the magazines and sheets out in front of him. "On the homepage of the website, they've announced that The Freefall is going on a state tour, but they haven't said which states, where in them they'll be performing, or when: which is whythey've opened a competition! Whoever can figure out where they're playing will win tickets. We totally hit the jackpot, because on the forums, _the _Angel posted a bunch of questions to help us. So all we have to do is figure out the answers, and we are so totally going to meet The Freefall."

Cue squealing girls, explosive fist-bumps and the bell that signals lesson five.

"Hey Ella, need a ride home?" I call, trotting over to where Ella's sitting on the front steps. School ended ten minutes ago; I wonder what she's still doing here. She turns and smiles up at me, but I can see the worry in her eyes, like she doesn't want me to be here. Shaking her head, she slowly stands up and brushes off her jeans.

"Nah, I've got someone coming. What're you still doing here?"

"When Iggy got home, he called me, and I was still changing from Phys Ed, so it took me twice as long to get dressed." I smile when she laughs, and notice a slight pink come to her Hispanic tanned skin.

"What was he talking about?" she asks, looking curious.

"He was talking about his plan for the 'Maximum Project'. I honestly didn't realise he was this serious about getting to meet that girl; I thought he was just going to fangirl over her for a few more years, but by the way he was talking obviously not." I laugh, and Ella flashes me some teeth, but she looks a little put-out. And as she checks her watch, I can see in her eyes she looks a little scared, too.

"You mean fanboy?"

"Oh, yeah, that's… what I meant." Our conversation is cut off by a demanding feminine yell.

"You gon' get in, Ellsa, or am I gon' drive away without you?" the girl is leaning against the passenger door with her legs and arms crossed in a casual position. She has dark shades and a faint Texan accent. Ella panics a little, looking round at me. She looks like she's trying to cage a raging knot in her stomach.

"Well I'll see you bye." She waves, hurrying off towards the open-top, and I can hear her hissing urgently at the girl, who vaguely resembles Ella herself. The girl shrugs, spinning the keys round her index finger, and gets in.

Once they've driven away, I sit down on the marble steps, thinking about what just happened. Usually I would think nothing of it, maybe just assume that was her cousin visiting Greyhound for the weekend. But Ella looked so nervous, and didn't want me to see this "cousin". I wonder why she would worry about me watching one of her relatives, or just an uncanny friend, drive her home. And then it hits me.

That girl's Cupid's bow lips. Those long, smooth, tanned legs. Her flyaway dirty blonde hair.

But it couldn't be. Could it?


	2. Wind Under My Wings

**A/N: First of all, I would like to say, yaaaaay! I've never even had questions to answer when I started a new chapter. Thank you for your crazy generosity you wonderful weirdos. I love you all! Secondly, I would like to say, EGGY!**

**Danibrou1214: No, Max isn't from Texas, it's part of her disguise. LOL :P**

**Gremlin-Rayne: Mint… cookies? Cookies… mint? WAIT WHAAAAAAAT. OvO *lovestruck***

**Elemental Dragon Slayer: Duh, there will be Fax. There might be some different pairings for a while, but it always ends up being Fax!**

**And to everyone else: Thanks for the reviews, follows and favourites. It really encouraged me.**

**In case you were a little worried about my super long A/N yesterday, I always do that on the first chapter, but they get a lot shorter from here on out. By the way, last chapter was called Cupid's Bow, not Brick by Boring Brick. Sorry. *I'm pretty sure they **_**despise **_**them apples: reference to the comeback "how'd you like **_**them **_**apples?!"**

**(these three songs are mentioned in the chapter.)**

**Crushcrushcrush - watch?v=ei8hPkyJ0bU (videography)**

**Pressure - watch?v=vKrP79m_kjA (lyrics)**

**King for a Day - watch?v=icXUkIfZxyg (videography)**

**Freefalling**

**Chapter Two – Wind Under my Wings**

**Max's POV Monday**

Driving always calms me down. I don't know why; maybe it's because you know your guidelines. There's always a place where you're supposed to be, and you don't have to make complicated choices. This would be true even if my car had a closed top, but the reason I love it is because I can feel my hair blowing back and bugs on my windshield and the wind under my wings.

I'm driving along one of those desert roads that stretch out into the horizon of a barren landscape, that kind of road where you would get no signal whatsoever while you're trying to desperately call a tow service, on the third day of your car's breakdown. And you would probably get eaten by desert rats any. Which, please.

I'm going to eat them first.

Let me first tell you where I'm going: to visit my half-sister, Ella. I visit her as much as I can, because I owe my life to her, and if you'd tasted our mom's cookies, you would totally understand why home's the place to be. Flicking on my car stereo and turning it up as much as I damn well please, I hear one of my own songs blasting out at me. Jebus, they're everywhere. Duck and cover, civilians, the Freefall revolution has begun.

_I got a lot to say to say to you  
Yeah, I've got a lot to say  
I noticed your eyes are always glued to me  
Keepin' them here; it makes no sense at all_

Just last week we got 6,100 more downloads for that song. To tell you the truth, I never expected in my giddy daydreams that I would be where I am now. I was always more the type of person who would much prefer to perform for her pillow than to a crowd, but despite my wishes, that fabulous Ella of mine decided that it was time I got myself out there. How she got in touch with Redicom Records, I have no idea, but I'm glad she did. Not to mention the tape of me singing, recorded through my keyhole, you little sneak. I guess there's only one more thing to say about it. When there's someone singing, in your neighbourhood, who you gonna call?

:P

_Rock and roll, baby  
Don't you know that we're alone now  
I need something to sing about  
Rock and roll, huh_

As I'm absently drumming my fingers on the dashboard, I notice that I've neared a town. Popping on my shades and pushing off my signature Doc Martens, I roll in like some kind of gangster, yo. Fortunately it doesn't earn me as many looks as it would in West Greyhound, because I really don't want to be recognised around here. Considering I'm in North Greyhound, I should probably take my time, because I'm in no hurry. Ella's school breaks up at three, and it's only one. I've never really looked around the north much, pretty much because it's where all the "upper-class" lives. Basically, it's crawling with rich gits who think they're above us Westhounds. Of course, they wouldn't dare mention a thing now that the only famous musician who's ever come from Greyhound was Westie. I never asked them before, but I'm pretty sure they _despise_ them apples.*****

Even the parking lots here are pay-to-stay. Oh, please. Just because you have all this money to throw down your pants doesn't mean you have to. In any other place, you simply park up however wonky you's feeling like it and walk off. But all the rigged-up sports cars and mint-coloured Jeeps that they give their daughters for their third birthdays are parked completely straight so as to keep them in pristine condition, and the fare costs a whole dollar. What are they here, loaded? Wait, that's right. They are.

When I step out of my car in regular Converse, I do get a few more funny faces. They're not used to teenagers in regular clothing getting out of their schmancy kind of car. This would really get to me – you know, if I _gave_ a crap. Just to prove a point, I slam the door on their peacefulness, disrupting the quiet. The first thing I want to try is getting a mocha. I'll bet you they charge an extra hundred for the gold shavings.

I've been told that my natural walking gait is very uneven, and gives off a certain confidence. I suppose I do sway my hips a bit much, but I don't do it intentionally. To be honest I'm just always trying to walk quickly. When I was a kid, I did everything as slowly as possible, including walking. People called me a snail. But then when I got into middle school, I ended up doing everything so much faster, probably because I just wanted to get out of there. Lots of kids who are bigger than you, in a confined space while you're trying to get to class, and your clunky old backpack isn't the best combination if you enjoy your sanity. So I just sped up, simplezz.

Since you've just read the reason for my arriving at the local Starbucks so quickly, I won't need to go over it again. As I stare up at it, I notice that when they say Starbucks they really mean _Starbucks. _You know, because stars (celebrities) have lots of money (bucks) and then the… oh, right, you don't care. Well, if _that's _the way you want to play it.

Inside, I half expect them to be playing some soprano, but no. It's me. I guess I'm just that irresistible.

_I can feel the pressure  
It's getting closer now  
we're better off without you  
I can feel the pressure_

Oh please, we released Pressuretwo years ago **(A/N: The anniversary for the Pressure release is in 6 days, by the way)**. Get with the times, people!

I look up at the (_sky and I see red! Red for the cancer, red for the wealthy, red for the drink that's mixed with suicide! Everything red!_ Ahem. Okay, I'm done reciting Pierce the Veil now) menu above the counter to see if I've got enough on me for a white mocha. Huh, $2.50. Maybe I misjudged. Starbucks can't be that different everywhere and it certainly won't change for a bunch of monkey suits.

"White chocolate mocha please, medium," I ask the guy behind the counter. I see a flicker behind his eyes. Crap, I'm not Maxine yet, am I?

Just so I don't end up scrambling your brain, my real name is Maxine Martinez. Maximum Ride was a stage name, before I had it legally changed because of a few sentimental reasons. When I'm around people, who might recognise me and release the hungry paps to ravage my innocence, I transform myself back into Maxine by dying my hair brown like Ella's, ditching the rock star looks, and talking with my spot-on Texan façade. Also, I have an extra car just for the disguise. What do you mean; it's not for the disguise and I'm just putting it on because I wanted a new car? Of course it is.

"Coming right up, ma'am." He replies with a steady voice, but he looks persistently curious. A minute of leaning against at the counter brings me to sitting at a circular table on my own, investigating the Mocha of the North. It's quite good actually. I bet you'd want one. It's so hot and steamy, so chocolaty and irresistible. I'm drinking one right now. Where's yours? Oh yes, you don't have one. Ha-ha.

Don't mind me, I'm just trolion'.

- - time skip - -

Pulling up outside Ella's school, I see that she's talking to a boy. Ooh, snazzy. I slide out quietly, leaning on the door to listen. Silently, I wonder if they're involved, but he doesn't look like her type (more like mine, ha). I would know, I've met them all, if you know what I mean. He has shaggy black hair, dark clothes and darker eyes. He probably works out. That's one thing that defines Ella and me: I can tell how buff they are before I ask them out, and she can't. What can I say? It's a gift.

"What was he talking about?" Ella asks the guy with her back to me.

"He was talking about his plan for the 'Maximum Project'. I honestly didn't realise he was this serious about getting to meet that girl; I thought he was just going to fangirl over her for a few more years, but by the way he was talking obviously not." Poop: Maximum. Is he talking about me?

A chuckle rolls off his tongue, and I don't hear Ella laugh back, but I do hear the waver in her voice when she next speaks. "You mean fanboy?" A detail like that wouldn't matter to her if she didn't like the guy they were talking about. So she didn't like that boy? I was totally going to get her to tell me everything when we got home. Ah, the joys of intervening in your younger sister's love life. What fun!

"Oh yeah, that's… what I meant." I can feel the heat from all the way over here, so I do them a favour.

"You gon' get in, Ellsa, or am I gon' drive away without you?" I holler, folding my arms.

"Well I'll see you bye." Says my sister quickly, scooping up her bag and hurrying towards me. When she reaches me, she greets me with a scalding undertone. "What are you _doing _Maxine, trying to get yourself caught? _Ooh_ you're lucky you used that accent on him, he would have recognised you straight away, young lady." Jeez. Clip your bra on, mother.

I shrug and she ushers me into the driver's seat, which is where I take over. She can't tell me what to do when I drive because she knows I'll send any backseat drivers over a cliff. It irritates me no end when someone tells me how to drive. Pisstake, that's what it is.

"Los hombres, ¿eh?" I ask her, knowing that she'll understand. See, no human with the last name Martinez can resist speaking Spanish for a whole day. Its physics, deal with it.

"NooOOoo!" she waves her hands at me in a 'no way' fashion.

"Well, I only suspect it when you're talking to a boy about a boy. That's when I get suspicious. I mean, there are two male persons in that scenario!" friends are forever, boys are for a while, and sisters are for girly-ing.

"The one I was talking to was Fang. You remember him, right?" I nod, pursing my lips in anticipation. "We're totally in the friend zone there. Buuuut."

"Buuuut."

"Buuuut. There _is _a guy."

"There _is _a guy!"

"There _IS _a guy! Okay so you remember me talking about Iggy riiight?"

"Riiight."

"Riiight! Yeeah." She had an excitable warble in her voice when she talked about him. Ooh, goody. "When I first met him he was kinda goofy, dependable and great friend material even though he's, you know, _not female. _Over time though, he's just gotten more and more attractive to me. He doesn't show it when we're around other people, but…" she sighed and looked off into the distance.

AWW!

Aside, just a small additional footnote: if he ever hurts her, _I'll crush him._


	3. Worship My Solo

**A/N: Once again, thank you for all the reviews. I really was shocked by this wave of support. So, as a reward, I think you're going to like this chapter. I was coming up with ideas all through my mega boring classes.**

**Elemental Dragon Slayer: Trolion' is just trollin' in a funny accent. :P**

**Freefalling**

**Chapter Two – Worship My Solo**

**Ella's POV Tuesday**

"Get up El – WHOOP!" I hear a girlish yelp and a moment later, my shoulder connects with the hard ground. Ow, ow ow ow. What the heck was that? Looking up, I realise that I just fell off the top bunk in my bedroom. A face sheepishly peers over the mattress at me. "You'll be late for school?" she shrugs, grinning nervously.

"MAX! I'll kill you!" I screech, reaching for the ladder, only to be whacked under the chin by the bottom rung when my evil half-sister pulls it up to stop me from climbing up and strangling her. Ouch! How many times Max?

"WHOOP!" she smacks her hand to her lips, eyes widening like manholes. "I'm sorry – here!" she chucks something down, and it clocks me over the head. OUCH! I pick it up and realise it's a tube of concealer, probably for the bruise that's sure to come up on my chin, and my shoulder, and my head. And anywhere else she can think to attack me before I can even get downstairs.

"Don't kill me, I've got music today!" I squeal, running into the bathroom. Once I'm in, I lock the door and find an empty bottle of Liquid Chestnut hair dye lying in the bathtub. I hadn't noticed, but she must've dyed her hair last night. After quickly washing my face, I open the makeup cupboard and clear most of the contents of my shelf onto the window sill. Carefully I apply some tan eye shadow, liquid eyeliner and a brush of mascara. Then I rub in some foundation under my eyes to take away the blue tint of sleep. When I roll a pad over my bronzing pearls and tilt my head up to brush it under my cheekbones, I see a bruise blossoming under my chin, and decide to use some of Max's concealer too.

Speaking of Max, I never told her when my school day starts, so how would she know when to wake me up? Oh well, I think, dismissing the thought. Mom probably asked her to get me out of bed in the morning. There's nothing to worry about.

I peek out of a crack in the door, and don't see Max anywhere around, so I hastily sprint down the hallway between the bathroom and my bedroom. She isn't in here either, so she won't be able to stab me while I change. My bedroom is really a mess. There's only just enough room to open the door or it would hit the unmade bunk bed, there are open books on the floor which fell out of my unorganised book case, and the curtains are hanging from a few clips (the ones I haven't lost). Wait, where did that carpet stain come from… come to think of it, those empty Relentless cans are new too. Gosh, she's trashing the house already.

I walk up to my wardrobe, and open it to find everything in order, but it's just a matter of time before she starts stealing from me. I take out a white stretch tee with a green Space Invader on the front, a pair of navy blue shorts and some navy blue Toms. After slipping them on, I skip down the stairs to find the smell of fresh homemade pancakes and hot butter waft around me. Ooh, mmm.

In the kitchen, my mom is shifting a pan full of batter, and Max is stuffing her face with something sugary. In the light, I can see that she dyed her hair. The colour goes well with her black-leather oriented outfit. She's wearing one-quarter length shorts, a sleeveless belly corset and washed out black combat boots. I'm slightly surprised by it because she normally tries to wear 'Maxine' sort of things that Maximum wouldn't choose.

"Erro Emma!" she calls cheerily through a mouthful of syrup-coated batter. Of course, Max is always cheery when she's got pancakes.

"Morning dear." My mom says, not looking up from her pan. "I have some good news. Max has en–"

"Maw mawm!" Max shakes her head frantically at my mom. "I'w tew hew water."

"If you say so, hun. Well, she'll tell you later then," my mom smiles at me warmly, her eyelids crinkling up when she looks in my direction. She hands me a plate stacked with sugared pancakes and shoos me into the living room. I wonder what news Max would have for me, which begins with 'en'? She was en…lightened, and became a Hindu. No, she's not religious. She en…countered my long lost twin on a trip to the local Tesco Express. No, I never had a twin. She's en…gaged? No, she's single.

Well, whatever it is, she's going to tell me later.

- - time skip - -

It's lunch time, and thank goodness, because I'm _starving. _I haven't had anything since breakfast, which was hours ago. As I walk out of my classroom, I bump into someone, literally.

"I'm so sorry – oh, Iggy." I sigh, steadying myself on his chest. For some reason, he seems to enjoy the gesture.

"It's alright. I was waiting for you. Come on," he smiles serenely, taking my hand off his chest and leading me down the stairs. He waited for me? We usually just walk alone to the court, because we know that's where everyone else will be. That was really sweet of him to stay there; I was out five minutes late any way, having to finish off my conclusion or face a detention that I really didn't need with Max around. See, this is the kind of thing he does for me when nobody else is watching. It's why he's just so irresistible. "So, noticed anything new lately?" he asks, and quickly I check his hair and shirt in case he's hinting at something that I should have seen before.

"No?" I say hesitantly, not wanting to put him off. He chuckles lightly, granting me a spurt of confidence.

"I didn't get a haircut, Ells. I know how much you love my hair as it is," he says it as a joke, but I can't help but think to myself: it's true. I do love his hair, I always have. I'm attracted to red. "No, I was talking about student-wise. I wanted to know if you'd seen anybody new, or am I just seeing things?"

"What do you mean?" I ask. As I look up at him from my feet, I glance our hands, which are still intertwined, and a hot blush dances on my cheeks.

We're walking on the gravel playground now, passing the crowd of populars on my left. "Count them," he says simply, shrugging his shoulder towards them. I look at their heads, and sure enough, there's an extra brunette today. I wonder where she came from, and how she got into that crowd so quickly. It surely should take weeks to be accepted into the populars, and what's more, she seems to be the centre of attention. After those weeks of warming up to them, it would take even longer to travel off the side-lines and into the middle.

As she turns, I see her outfit. It's simple, stylish, and _exactly _what Max was wearing this morning.

When mom started to tell me that Max had 'en…', she didn't mean enlightened, or encountered, _or _engaged.

She meant, _enrolled._

- - time skip - -

Music is my last lesson, and I'm really looking forward to it, until I walk in and see a gaggle of the scattered populars in this class. I slide in next to Iggy and am about ask what's going on out of the side of my mouth, until Mr Henson coughs to get his class' attention. "Settle down, kids," he says, sitting back on his spinney chair. The crowd breaks down, and I see what, or who, was at the centre.

Max. With her now-chestnut locks tumbling down her leather-clad back, and her edgy rocker boots crossed, she looks truly out of place to all of us… regular people. Even to those oblivious to how famous she really is, she seems more like she should be on a movie set or at a photo shoot than in a classroom. Yet, she looks at home amongst all these instruments, and I'm pretty much the only one in here who knows why.

"So, class, I've been having some requests. I take that most of you want to learn how to play the guitar, yes?" he asks, raising a bushy white eyebrow. Murmurs and quiet nods spread like a wildfire. "Does anybody know how to play?" he skims over his student history sheet, which tells him where he should be grading each of us. I looked at it once before, but I couldn't figure it out because of the student-proof layout. "Maxine?"

"Uh yeah, I guess." She mumbles in that Texan voice I know so well. Glancing to my side, I see Iggy watching intently and feel a small pang in the pit of my stomach. The buckles of her boots click together awkwardly as she strides up front and centre, then turns around, looking a little lost.

"Just choose a guitar, dear, and show us how you play." Said Mr Henson encouragingly, and Max catches my eye. I shrug subtly and give her a look that says 'just whatever you do, don't sing'. As my half-sister tentatively picks up a guitar, I look around the classroom to see what all the uncharacteristic hush is about. They're all watching her closely, like hungry animals – but not to laugh at her if she slips up. They look more… worshipping. How did that happen?

And suddenly, Max begins to play.


	4. Back To School

**A/N: Hellooo. I would've had to look for some good guitar pieces for this, but I already had something in mind, so I listened to it and I was like OH FATHER THAT IS GOOD. Literally. Also, what do you think about… Mazzy? Before you start yelling at me about how wrong that is, they're the same age, I think it would really work with my plot line. Gazzy is the most innocent guy I could think of, and I say I could make it work, though I've never seen any Mazzy before. I am also considering some other pairings: possible Sax/Mylan, definite Eggy/Fax, and there will be some new characters appearing later on that I might just have to pair up!**

**Has you all voted in the Golden Joystick awards? I haven't yet, because when I looked at the page for YouTube gamers, the Yogscast, Syndicate Project and InTheLittleWood were all there. Then my brother told me I could only vote once. I cried. LOL.**

**Oh Father (Paramore) - watch?v=M0v31CFgwWA**

**Emergency – **** watch?v=pbqL6f-9m5c**

**ED Slayer/Skatzaa: You'll have to read it to find out!**

**WARNING: (GERMANS IN THE SQUARE! Sorry, only joking. I saw that on Fool Britannia.) OCS AHEAD**

**Freefalling**

**Chapter Four – Back to School Sale: Popularity Now 50% Off!**

**Max's POV Tuesday**

Feeling groggy and exceptionally warm lulls my senses: I only realise that I'm not in my own bedroom when I get out of the bed and fall over a heap of laundry. See, that's what you get when you (let your heart win, whoa) put it there. I, however, leave my laundry at the foot of someone _else's _bed, like a civilised person. That way, they fall on their face, instead of you.

Slowly I push myself up, and pick a can of Relentless off my bed sheets. Fortunately, it's not open. It'll be warm, but I'm tired, and I don't have a reason to care, so I pop it open and chug it anyway. I can hear Ella breathing softly as she sleeps on the top bunk. She has to get to school at half eight, and since it's six now, I'll just wake her up in a while. There's something about school that I haven't told her yet, though I'm not sure she'll be pleased with it, so I think I'll just leave it for her to figure out by herself. Preferably around Iggy, because she won't want him to see her wigged out.

Unzipping my duffle bag and pulling out something that matches, I sweep off into the bathroom to fix myself up. My eyeliner is sitting on the toilet lid for some mysterious reason, so after checking that someone hasn't dunked it, I settle myself in front of the mirror to put it on. Applying my eye makeup is an intricate process, because I use my eyelids like a blank canvass to paint on. As I create a smoky swirl pattern reaching up from my eyelashes, I run over my success criteria for my day at school.

You're probably thinking, 'Max, did you jump under a falling brick wall?' or, 'Max, did you jump under a falling whale?" No, I didn't jump under a falling anything. At least, not in the past few months, I haven't.

I thought maybe it was time I got reacquainted with my old school chums, and see what's changed around the place. I don't think I ever mentioned to you that I was frequently picked on for being the odd one out at that school, so there's my second reason for you: I want revenge.

Honestly, you might think that it's not the kind of valid reason that a decent person would give. But sincerely, I don't give a full diaper. Wait, let me check – nope, does not faze me one bit. If you'd been through what I did, you wouldn't just _understand, _you would drop a bucket of paint on each and every one of the populars who had ever teased me about something: my clothes, my hair, my attitude. My being related to that fabulous Ella Martinez, who was by far way cooler and more popular than I was.

So, eventually, I'll get them back. But I'm going to bide my time.

- - time skip - -

"Get up El – WHOOP!" I bark loudly, having just accidentally pushed my sister off the top bunk and possibly broken her elbow. I gingerly peep out from the soft duvet, and shrug slightly. "You'll be late for school?" I attempt to excuse myself, but then I hear a low, feral grow and realise she'll strangle me if I let her up here, so I begin to swing up to ladder, right when she lunges for it.

"MAX! I'll kill you!"

"WHOOP!" I literally smack myself. "I'm sorry – here!" I yank a tube of concealer out of my back pocket and drop it down for her, but instead it hits her over the head. I expect her to be even angrier and come up here without the ladder, but she shrieks at me about today's music lesson and scurries off out of the door. Whilst all this went on, I was panicking, because when Ella says she's going to kill you, she's goingto _kill you_. Then again, I think of it now, and it just sounds hilarious.

Just as I'm about to fall off the bed laughing, I smell something interesting. I sniff my way downstairs like Scooby Doo and inside the kitchen; my mother is there, cooking pancakes. But these aren't just any pancakes… they're Mom & S pancakes. (I hope you get my reference) So naturally, I begin stuffing my face like an angry pig. What would you have done?

"Hey honey. Are you ready?" Mom asks, laughing quietly at my reaction to her cooking.

"Oh totes. I can't wait to see everybody again." I reply, quite truthfully, though not in quite the way she thinks.

"Well good for you. I'm sure Ella will be happy to introduce you. Just remember, I don't think you should tell anybody who you've become. There'll be no end to the hassle." She reminds me in a very maternal tone.

Almost ten minutes later, Ella emerges from the hallway looking perky. "Erro Emma!" I wave joyfully, curling my bottom lip in a failed attempt to stop the syrup dripping out of my mouth.

"Morning dear. I have some good news," she says, scraping a big wooden spoon again the bottom of the pan. She hasn't given me any news, so I can only expect the worse, and my fears are confirmed with the beginning of her next sentence. "Max has en–"

"No mom!" well, that's what was supposed to come out. Instead, it sounds more like I'm some kind of oompaloompa. "I'w tew hew water." A deranged oompaloompa.

Mom offers a stack of pancakes to Ella. "If you say so, hun. Well, she'll tell you later,"

- - time skip - -

"No really, you'd didn't have to drive me all the way to school. I expect you've got some frolicking down Memory Lane to do," says Ella sarcastically, stressing for the nth time that it was 'generous' of me to drive her to school. She still doesn't know that I'm going too.

"I went round the North for a while, you know," I hint offhandedly, "before I picked you up yesterday."

"That doesn't count."

"I'm driving you to school. Deal with it." I tell her, pushing my shades down and resting my elbow on the back of the seat, leaving only one hand on the steering wheel. I know the way to this school like the back of my hand – well actually, maybe more like my mom, because I don't talk to my hand that much.

"Fine, fine, Rarity. We're almost there, and then you can go on your little trip. I'm sure you're dying,"

"No can do. I figure I'm going to say hello to a few of my favourite teachers, if you know what I mean," I say, sliding my hand down the side of the leather wheel to turn right.

"No way! You can't do that, they'd kick you out."

"It's okay. I'm wearing REALLY big knickers."

"TMI."

"Plonker."

Turning into the parking lot, I'm surprised to see some familiar cars. I didn't think I'd remember them, let alone exactly who drives them.

"Ella!" two boys jog over. One of them has messy golden-blonde hair and sky blue eyes, slightly shorter than his companion. The other sports combed-over light blonde hair, Caribbean blue eyes and a flashy grin. He's wearing an open light blue shirt over a white gym tank and blue jeans. What's _Dylan _doing talking to my Ella? When they reach Ella's door, Dylan holds onto it and leans forward. Only then do they seem to notice me. "Oh hello, who might you be?" he raises an eyebrow in my direction and sticks out a hand.

"Maxine Martinez. The cousin." I reply, taking the hand and shaking it. Hmm, still warm. Just like I left it.

"Hm. Maxine. That sounds familiar," he looks past me, thinking for a moment, then brings his eyes back down. "Well, I'm Dylan, a friend of Ella's. And this is Gazzy," he gestures to the guy beside him, who I completely forgot about. He's standing behind Dylan a bit, inspecting me warily. He looks like he's used to having Dylan steal his thunder (and from my experience with ol' Dilly, I'd say especially with the ladies). He must had moved here in the past couple years, because I've never met him before.

"Hey," I smile, propping myself back and giving him a wave. His muscles seem to slack with relief, as if he was holding a breath.

"Hi." Says Gazzy, in a nervous tone.

"I gotta go Max, and so do you." Ella looks at me sternly, getting out of my car. "Bye."

"Chill, El," Wow. I sound really Texan there. "See you later." Ella walks off, promptly followed by Dylan, but as I pull slowly into the closest parking space, I notice Gazzy hasn't gone with them. Looking at him over my shoulder at him, he seems to realise that he's been staring, and jumps at the chance to follow them.

For the rest of the time until the bell rings, I sit in my car with my ankles crossed over the wheel, texting my band mates in Portland, while my car stereo booms out my voice. When I get out of my car to go to class, I see that I have a little fan club going.

_I think we have an emergency  
I think we have an emergency  
If you thought I'd leave, then you were wrong  
'Cause I won't stop holding on  
so are you listening? So are you watching me?_

- - time skip - -

Having received my timetable already, I head to my first period, which is in the art block. Easels have been set up where the desks would have been if we were doing paperwork or essays or something stupid on my first day. With art, I prefer just to get straight to it.

Finding my name clipped to an easel near the back, I settle down on the metal stool in front of it and wait for the teacher to say something. She's got our back to us, but her short black hair is tied back in a messy ponytail and she has four piercings on each ear. Ooh, artsy.

"Hey," a deep, slightly sandpaper-like voice from my right whispers at me, and I turn to see a guy with shaggy dark brown hair and hazel eyes watching me. "I'm Kyle. What's your name?" I notice his jock jacket immediately.

"Maxine." I tell him, almost in my regular accent, but catch myself at the last moment. I hope he didn't notice.

"That's a cute name." he says, cocking an eyebrow and leaning back on his stool. "I'm pretty sure I'd have noticed _you_ before," he adds, eyeing my outfit (I hope), "if you'd been here all year. Where you from?"

"Texas. Do you know Ella Martinez?" I ask him, trying to distract him from my… shirt.

"I think she was my ICT partner once."

"I'm her cousin." I tell him, and he frowns, something sparking up in his expression.

"Oh, I can see it now. The resemblance." Why he doesn't seem too happy about that, I have no idea. His eyes are still roaming a little, which unsettles me, but I don't think he's checking me out anymore. He looks more like he's comparing me with Ella. Leaning round my easel, I see that the teacher has left a message on the whiteboard and that everyone else has started painting.

**Perspective: draw an everyday object in the detailed perspective of your choice. You have forty minutes.**

Turning my head around the room, I select the wooden doorframe and start to draw a brown outline around the edge of my paper. Twenty minutes later, I've painted a whole doorframe, complete with discriminating details. Inside the frame, I draw another frame, and in that frame, a smaller frame yet. This goes on for another ten minutes, until the last frame is just a speck. I hear a small cough from the front, and the teacher is watching us. "I see all of you have finished early, so you can have another ten minutes to just be social while I mark your work." The buzz of chat begins long before she's picked up the first painting.

"Hey, Maxine," Kyle calls from my left this time, and I look over to see he's got a few friends with him, all male. "There are some people you should meet. C'mere." I shrug and walk over, to where he pushes a stool at me, and I'm grateful that I don't have to stand there awkwardly while he introduces me to his jock friends. "This is Anthony, Joshua, Gabe, Tyler, Justin, Connor and Lucas. Guys, this is Maxine," he turns from me, but by the way his friends react I'm sure he's make a dirty gesture because I can't see his face.

I remember them all from my old days back here, studying them from afar because I was never even allowed into the thick of things. I have to admit that Anthony is rather good looking, which is why all three of his girlfriends from the beginning of eighth grade didn't care that he was dating them all at the same time. Joshua's relationship record is four weeks and three days, and he left her because she had changed shampoo brand. Gabe and Tyler are both single most of the time, and it's _totally_ not because they know they'd get dumped if their girlfriends saw them checking _every girl_ out. Justin is a total lead-on, and he never goes out with any of them because he enjoys seeing them upset over him. Connor only likes older women, which he can never get, and the foreign type, so chicas; I suggest you don't move here. I don't think Lucas as has rep with the women, but I saw him kick a bird once, so it's not like I don't have a reason.

They greet me in a civil way, which I'm grateful for, because I think I'd have to flip someone if they thought I was going to be easy. "So, Max. Can I call you Max?" I honestly don't care what they call me, as long as it's some form of my name, and not... well, you know what I mean, right? "Where did you move from?"

"I live in Dallas with my dad. I'm visiting for a month or two, didn't have much better to do than school." Yes I do. But _you _don't know that. :)

"Aww, you'll be gone in two months?" actually, you look very pleased about that. I can't wait to see your face when I introduce you to Swirly Ville.

"Maybe longer, that depends how long my dad wants to stay. He can only stay so long with my aunt, if you know what I mean." I tell Connor, giving him a sideways look. "It's fine for some weeks, but then the sibling instincts kick in and they start to get on each other's nerves." It's all lies. They're not even square.

"Ah." Justin smirks, elbowing Anthony subtly.

You know that phrase, 'saved by the bell'?

Yeah.

- - time skip - -

I make my way up to the gym with Kyle and Lucas, not looking forward to this at all. Phys Ed has always sucked, even if afterwards you think, 'hey, it wasn't that bad'. Stop trying to cover up for yourself, because you know you hate it. Changing in front of the school's sweaty feminine population, exerting yourself with the most stupid warm-up the teacher could think of, and spending a whole precious hour of your life trying to actually _dodge _the ball this time.

I don't know if this school has an exercise uniform, and if they do I'm going to have to borrow one from the school, which is just eugh. Swiftly though, I'm brought out of my thoughts by Lucas' next comment.

"Get the space behind her man, those skimpy gym shorts will give you a _great _view." He laughs and elbows Kyle, who joins in half-heartedly.

"Excuse me?" I ask him nonchalantly.

"I think we're running track today," is all Lucas tells me.

"Hey, guess what? Running track has nothing to do with what I asked." he turns to look at me, mouth slightly open. "Yep! You learn something new every day."

"LUCAS!" a very girly voice squeals, running up from behind us and clamping small hands over Lucas' eyes. "Guess who it is. Guess."

"Tess? Brigid? Gabe?" he grins, still walking even though he can't see. The girl behind him coughs, looking very disturbed. Lucas chuckles. "It's okay, Liss, you don't look like a boy." 'Liss' doesn't look convinced.

"You'd better not be playing with me, because I spent like, _all _morning layering and waving my hair like this." That's when I notice her hair, which I would have definitely before, had I been paying attention. It's crimson red, and not that kind of damaging dark red that everyone's dying their hair these days. It's genuinely scarlet. She's much shorter than me, with wide olive green eyes and a faint spray of freckles. She notices me while I look at her. "Oh hello, who are you?" she says without a smile, cocking her head and keeping hold of Lucas.

"My name's Maxine, I'm from Texas." I tell her, and she nods a little, but I can see vulnerability in her eyes.

"I'm Lissa." Is all she says, before prancing off up the corridor and into the girls' changing room. The boys split into the guys' room, and I'm left to go in on my own. Fortunately, as I push open the door, only a few heads turn, because most of the girls are focussed on getting dressed quickly. A woman with a clipboard and a name-tag walks up to me.

"New student, right?" she skims the clipboard, "Maxine. Right, next time you can bring your own clothes, but for now you can wear these," she adds, handing me a pile of used clothes. Before I can reach for them, Lissa skips over and dumps a different pile on me.

"This is what you'll need. No problem, coach," then she skips right off into a corner, where she beckons me over. Looking back at the coach for a moment, I follow her and unfold the clothes. Wedged between a white tank top and some red shorts is a pair of red-and-white Nikes. "That's what we're all wearing. I didn't want you to feel out of place." As I look around, I notice she's right; they're all wearing similar outfits.

"Thanks." I say simply, pulling my clothes off and putting hers on. Quickly, the coach calls us out onto the track, and I notice that the shoes pinch a little, but what other choice do I have?

"Right kids," squinting at the nametag, I can see that her name is coach Pivot. "We're running track today. And I mean running, not walking," she emphasises, eyeing a few students.

The class disperses out onto the field, where I see Gazzy with a brown-haired guy. I bounce up behind them, sticking my hands in my pockets, and say in a cheery voice, "HELLO." Both of them jump and turn around fast, Gazzy's friend shooting me a puzzled look, and Gazzy himself turning away from me, his cheeks heating up rapidly.

"He...llo?" his friend says hesitantly. "Who are you?" he asks, as we begin to jog.

"Maxine. Texas. Ella's cousin. Jeez, if I had a nickel." I laugh, and he laughs too. Gazzy's still trying to ignore me.

"Well, I'm Sam, Ella's friend. Nice to meet you." we shake hands. "Have you met Gazzy?"

"Yup," I answer, popping the 'p', "Speaking of which, are you happy there, ignoring me?" I poke him, and if his cheeks could get any brighter, I'm sure they did just then.

"I'm, yeah." He mumbles, so I jog up between them to get closer.

"Come on, talk to me. I won't eat you, you know. Gingers taste better." He laughs quietly and finally looks at me, so I smile in what I hope was an encouraging way, but frankly I'll bet you that nickel I got earlier that I looked constipated.

"Uh well, did you –" he looks frantically over my shoulder at Sam, then a second later, he looks back at me triumphantly. "– did you catch the big game last night?" Ha-ha. That's a classic!

"What game?" Sam asks, furrowing his brows at Gazzy over my head. Sam is taller than both of us.

"The one, you know, last night. That one." He exchanges and glance with Sam, who seems to get the message, whatever it is, and lets out a drawling 'ohhhhh'. When I turn my head up at him innocently, he gives me a very firm nod, as if trying to convince me that there really was a game going on last night.

"Oh, I see, _that_ game. The one last night." I look smugly ahead. "Who did you think was going to win?" Gazzy sputters.

"The, the team who, didn't, you know, win. I was rooting for them." To add to the story, Sam gives a long, mockingly deep and depressed 'awwwwhhhh'.

"Oh, _yeah_, devastated when they lost. Devastated. My dad cried, my mum cried, my fish cried – well I couldn't tell because he was swimming in water, but I assumed he was – I cried, oh I cried my diddy heart out, I did. Gaz was so sad he came right over to my house and then he…" Sam pauses dramatically, "he ate my TV. Boy did he eatthat thing. He ate it good and proper, he did."

I decide to join in, knowing that we're teasing Gazzy mercilessly, but it's all in good fun, right? "On the contrary, I was supporting the winning team the whole time. I sat in my nuddy-pants, I did," I say, watching Gazzy light up like a tomato out of the corner of my eye, "and then when they won I went up to that TV and I said 'I love you all, you lucky gits' and then I snogged that TV to a pulp I did, I did." Gazzy's eyebrows shoot up, then Sam and I split our sides laughing.

"Your face!" I scream, clutching my sides.

"His face!" Sam yells, bent double.

"It's so not funny!" Gazzy frowns, standing there and watching us. In no time, everyone has passed us and there's just us, two goons falling about laughing, and their poor innocent victim left trying to defend his last scrap of dignity. "I was only trying to talk to you. You were the one who told me to." He accuses me.

I finally compose myself and stand up straight. "I'm sorry honey. Come here, baby, let me kiss your booboo." I step closer and wrap my arms around him, feeling him stand rigid and Sam, just about breathing normally, starts giggling all over again.

A sharp whistle is blown, and the coach yells at us. "GET MOVING, KIDS,"

I pull away from Gazzy, who seems reluctant to run again, and push Sam roughly off the floor. "Damn, boy. You're heavy, mister." Sam gets himself slowly up; as if afraid he'll fall over laughing again.

For a while, we jog in silence, gradually catching up with the rest of the class, who have got tired and given up trying to run. Gazzy and Sam drop back a bit – I suppose they want to talk about 'man' things – so I run up to Lissa, who's grouped with the girls who have spent as long on their hair as she has. As I come up, Lissa hears me and turns around, glancing behind me at the boys. "Hey, Max?" she asks as I fall into step, "What were you doing with those dorks?"

"What, Gazzy and Sam?" I frown a little, but she doesn't seem to realise that she's being insulting. "I was just talking to them. They're Ella's friends."

"Ella?"

"Ella Martinez. I'm her cousin."

"Oh, I remember Ella. She used to be one of the populars a few years back, but she dropped away from us because she wanted to be friends with…" Lissa looks away. "…dorks." When she turns back, she looks hurt.

- - time skip - -

I walk into music with a spring in my step. It's been a successful first day; I just needed to get used to my surroundings again so I'll be able to get down to business soon enough. Not much has changed since I left, so if I'm careful and precise, my Operation Justice should run smoothly. But then, when has any teenager's life ever run smoothly?

Mr Henson is where I left him, too: sitting back on that spinney chair, hands together, feet crossed on his desk, keeping us all under a watchful eye (if you're wondering- 'we're under his eye, so what's his eye under?' then you're a weirdo. But the answer is a President Snow eyebrow). The students are generally milling around, mingling until the lesson actually begins, because Mr Henson doesn't start without everyone.

"Maxine, over here!" someone calls, and I see that it's Kyle again. Normally, I give people a chance before I start to judge. But this guy is already starting to get on my nerves. I walk over anyway because I don't exactly have a choice, and slide myself onto the table. "Hey Andi, tell her what you said." The girl he gestures to has shoulder-length black hair, with a chrome streak in her fringe.

"I was telling them how those geeks in Phys Ed made you run with them when you clearly wanted to run _away. _Clueless!" everyone chuckles, not full-out laughing because she's already told them before, and she laughs again, watching me with a grin on her face. Waiting for me to join in. But I don't, so she stops laughing and turns away. Caution: apply ice to burned area.

A cough from the head of the classroom tells us that the last stragglers have appeared and Mr Henson wants to begin the lesson. "Settle down, kids." He says, leaning back whilst everyone finds their seats. "So, class, I've been having some requests. I take that most of you want to learn how to play the guitar, yes? Does anybody know how to play?" he squints, bringing a piece of paper to his face, choosing his victim with great care. And it's not me.

It's Primrose Everdeen.

Okay, maybe it wasn't, but it was worth a shot.

"Maxine?"

"Uh yeah, I guess." I agree quietly, slipping off the table and weaving between the chairs to get to the stage (it's not a stage as such; it's just where the carpet's been cut out in a large square leaving a bare patch of wooden slabs). I don't know what to do when I reach it, so I stand silently for a moment, waiting for Mr Henson to tell me what to do. When I look up, I see Ella at the back. Luckily, she decides to repress anger for now and send me an assuring look.

"Just choose a guitar, dear, and show us how you play." I skim over the rack and choose a dark mahogany-coloured one, with a maple brown pattern curling outwards from the strings, like flames caressing the wood. It reminds me of the one I have back in Portland, under watch of my band mates. I hook the strap round my neck and stroke the strings, getting a first feel, and then jump straight into one of my own: Oh Father.

My well-trained fingers move like lightning on my command, and I feel as if they are on auto-pilot. I know this all so well, it seems to me like I forgot what I was about when I had been away from my beloved music for so long. This is what I should be doing now; this is what I should be doing for the rest of my life, and I must fight the urge to sing. It sounds so wrong without the drums, the bass, the voice. But it sounds so right too, powerful and graceful and _independent. _I'm loving this so much that I can't even hear anyone else here, can't see anyone; it's just me and my guitar all over again. My roots. This is where I came from. Me and my guitar.

As soon as it started, it's over, and I'm left my hands resting comfortably on the guitar and my mouth parted, catching a breath. I don't look up because I don't want to. I don't want to leave that little world I travelled to when I was playing, so I'm gripping onto the little things I can remember of it. When I play, my thinking becomes drastic and irrational, because I play with my heart, not my head. I simply don't _need _to think straight when I play, so my brain switches off, and my soul comes out.

"I… I think that…" Mr Henson stutters, "I think that… deserves some applause." The room becomes raucous and erratic so rapidly that you could hear it from New Zealand.

- - time skip - -

"That…" Gazzy says for the twelfth time, staring at Iggy's phone, because apparently he was filming while I was playing the guitar. Story of my life.

"Shut up you lot." I frown, not turning from the wheel. Ella, Iggy, Gazzy, Sam and I are all packed into my car and driving to our house to play some video games. I haven't mentioned this before, but I am totally pro at video games. Of course, I haven't told them all that, so that I have a secret weapon. Ella seems to have caught on, and since I won't have an advantage over her, she's going along with it.

"Yeah, Gazzy, or she'll have to treat you like her TV." Iggy and Ella exchange a puzzled glance, but Sam and I just giggle quietly as Gazzy heats up like Christmas lights and sinks into his seat. "So anyway, what are we playing first? I haven't mentioned this before, but I am totally pro at video games. Of course, I'm not going to tell all of you that." That's what I said!

"You just did, doofus," I call over my shoulder, and Sam and I get the giggles again. I don't know if you noticed, but ever since we met on the tracks, he and I really hit it off. Ella notices.

"You twooo." She grins and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, poking me constantly in the side. "Sparks!"

"Don't distract me, or this car will feel the sparks too." I warn her, elbowing her hands out of the way. We talk for most of the way home (well, mostly me and Sam poking fun at everyone else. But it was fun) until I pull up in the driveway and lead everyone inside. Even before I've got my shoes off, the boys push past me and into the living room, yelling like… well, boys.

"Shotgun middle seat!"

"I call player one!"

"Dibs on the popcorn!"

"What popcorn?"

"All of it!"

"You can't do that!"

As I lower myself onto the stairs to pull off my shoes, Ella rolls her eyes at me and walks off to deal with the boys, and I pause for a moment. As much as I love my life: my band, my music, my fans and my freedom, I decide that I will always love Greyhound, and I will always love my family.


	5. Super Disturbing

**A/N: Hey. I took some of the comments into consideration, and I actually quite agree with most of the feedback, so I decided to obey the speed limit on my roll. :P I hope you enjoy this chapter, because Fang is going to meet Max somehow. I don't exactly have a plan, but I want to make it dramatic, so secure your seat belts and brace for turbulence.**

**I'm sorry for the shortness, and the lack of mint quality, but hey, it's Sunday. I promise I'll work harder on the next chapter: I know this may be kind of filler-y and unsatisfactory, but it had to happen for the plot to continue smoothly.**

**Disclaimer: Super Parkit is just a made-up supermarket. This should really be a claimer, because I actually do own that…**

**Freefalling**

**Chapter Five – Super Disturbing**

**Fang's POV (After School) Tuesday**

I walk home, feeling like there's something I'm missing. I've been having that same inkling all day, but nothing so far has proven it true: I remembered to put my gym clothes in the laundry, I remembered to hand in my biology homework, I remembered to text Iggy back about seeing a movie, I remembered to get my bag out of my locker at the end of the day. I really don't see what my problem is; why can't I just forget it? In the back of my mind, though, I know that there's something important.

I dig my house keys out of my jeans pocket, turn the lock and go straight to the living room. I need to relax, because I've got a lot weighted on my mind. Finding the remote, I switch the TV on and sling my bag onto the sofa. For a while, I just sit there watching the cheesiest pre-watershed 'reality' shows they could think to put on. At four, I feel a buzz in my pocket and am glad to have some excitement today. Flipping out my cell, I flick through my notifications and find a new text from Iggy.

**IGGY  
**Hey, man. Bored? We're playing video games at Ella's. I think you'd be interested at what's new around here. ;)

I frown, considering it for a second. What does he mean; I'd be interested at what's new at Ella's house? Just seconds after I've read the first text, a second one appears.

**IGGY  
**OH! Right, you're at work, sorry man. Ignore me. I forgot.

**FANG  
**Crap! Thanks man, I got to get to work or they'll fire me.

**IGGY  
**Hahaha. Good luck with that, bro.

I turn off the TV, throw on my signature black attire, grab my and Super Parkit apron and head out. Hopping into my navy truck and firing up the ignition, I pull slowly out of my driveway and weave between the cars parked on the curbs. That's right: I work part-time at a supermarket. A guy my age can use some extra cash, and my parents are sure not willing to pony up the dough. I don't mind working at Super Parkit. It's close to my house, well-paid, and I'm working in a comfortable environment where I don't have to talk too much. Despite being my perfect teenage job, there are a few kinks and knockbacks.

Here, of course, I'm speaking of the ladies. Super Parkit isn't a place where you would see family shopping; it's more of a department store for teens, and they don't exactly hold back when they want to flirt. My checkout (incidentally, 57) is cubed in by female checkout workers. A couple of them are really nice to me in a totally non-romantic way, but the problem is Brigid, Anne and Marian, or Mia as she prefers to be called.

Deep in thought about the troublesome trio, I park up and stroll in, remaining cautious. I'm almost ten minutes late. Sloppily, I fold my apron in half and tie it around my waist, jogging up the row of windows to get to the 50 – 60 checkout section. When I reach it, I hurry between the tills belonging to Ylanda and Pria.

Quickly, I settle a small friendly smile onto my face and open my till for customers. For a while, nobody comes around, until I hear the click of a checkout gate and a rough purr from behind me. My smile wipes away like a windshield. "Hey there, Fangy. Couldn't resist me, could you?" I turn my head, but I already know that it's Brigid.

"This is my job." I reply tightly, and attempt to get sorting some archives, but she won't let me.

"Oh, come on. Nobody's around. You know you miss me." She says cockily, ducking under my checkout gate and making room for herself on my chair. She twirls a lock of beach-blonde hair on her index finger and rolls her head to the side. I feel a dainty arm around my shoulders and shuffle sideways a little. "Fang, don't go. You feel that heat? Those are _sparks. _There's an empty storage cupboard with our couple name on it. What do you say?" she asks quietly, and I roll my eyes.

"Now, if you two are _quite _finished, I've got some video games to get back to. So I'd rather like it if somebody checked me out." Says an attractively sarcastic voice curtly from in front of my till. And it's… Texan? Turning to the person, I see that it's a teenage girl, leaning casually sideways against my checkout and plonking her bag onto the desk. She looks vaguely familiar.

Brigid scoffs. "Who'd want to check _you _out?"

"Items, hun, items." She says with an edge that I quite enjoy, then she turns to me. "Can she read the big girl menu or should I get the one with the pictures?" she asks me in an undertone. I look sideways at Brigid.

"Pictures."

Brigid storms off, but the girl just laughs and tips out her bag. It's full of popcorn, soda, cheese puffs and AA batteries. My eyebrows rise behind my fringe, but I begin to check out the items anyway. (Ooh, look at that Cola, she's so hot.) Glancing up, I see that the girl isn't paying any attention; her eyes are flicking from the window to her watch. She kind of looks like Ella.

There isn't much to check out, and it's already five to half past four, which is when I take off for a half hour on my break. The girl looks back at me. "Are you checking me out?" something flickers in her serious expression, and she breaks into a welcoming, amused smile.

"That's what I'm here for. I'm paid to check people out." I tell her, catching up to her wordplay and playing along. "Everyone who comes by here, I have to just sit here, and check them out."

"Oh, so that's all I am to you? A customer?" she pouts, pushing up onto the counter with surprising strength.

"Take your items and go." I chuck the bag back at her playfully, and she skips off, blowing me a jokey peace-sign kiss. That was… unusual. I'm never that open with customers, but there was just something about her that made me think differently. She seemed tougher than most girls, but nonetheless attractive. There was a confidence radiating onto me that was… new.

I sit there, just thinking about her for a few minutes, before a buzzer on my screen goes off and my shift is over. I tear off my apron and lock up my checkout, thankful for the lack of Brigid at the moment. As I leave, Ylanda pats me on the back. "If you get any better-looking, son, they'll be ravaging you!" she laughs lightly and good-naturedly.

- - time skip - -

I lay on my bed, listening to Stephen Walking songs on iTunes and thinking about what to do. Often, my after-shift is boring. In a few hours, I have to get back in there, so I have quite a while to kill. Soon enough, though, the rest of my free time is decided when Iggy sends me a very alarming message.

**IGGY  
**Get to Ella's NOW! GAZZY HIT HIS HEAD IN THE BASEMENT! UNCONSCIOUS! BLOOD!

I don't bother to get my car; I just sprint all the way there. I used to run in the track club, and Ella only lives a few blocks away, so it doesn't take long for me. Something is suspicious about that message, but I'm not going to question it, because Iggy doesn't lie to me, and if he's telling the truth, what kind of man would that make me if I sat at home, assuming it was a prank?

I rap on the door repeatedly, my heart beating fast. Gazzy could be losing blood quickly, we might need to get him to a hospital, and I might need to ask when Ella got a basement. The door is ripped open almost immediately and Iggy stands there, looking stunned, and runs into the living room. I follow without hesitation.

Inside the living room, Gazzy sits in a chair, perfectly fine, looking intrigued, embarrassed, both hating and loving the moment. Sam is next to him, watching something near the closet intently. I instantly turn my attention to it, and discover that it is in fact not an it, but a she. A girl has been pushed out of the closet, and she yelps, jerking herself up and looking around frantically. I notice four things at once.

It's the girl from Super Parkit.

She remembers me.

She's in her underwear.

She looks great in that outfit.


End file.
